


The Ruins of Osgiliath

by talefeathers



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Arguing, Character Study, Drabble, Gen, Light Grief/Mourning, Scene Rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 08:19:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17977712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talefeathers/pseuds/talefeathers
Summary: Sam aims a low blow at Faramir in a last-ditch attempt to convince him to let him and Frodo go.





	The Ruins of Osgiliath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [witticaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/witticaster/gifts).



> So uh hey Bria, I know your birthday was in October, and I know this isn’t much to offer you uh almost five whole months after the fact, but please accept this little [scene rewrite](https://youtu.be/wYdZCSFozHQ) featuring 1.) a Feisty Hobbit and 2.) a Sad Brother as your extremely belated birthday gift from moi!!!

When Sam turns back to check on Frodo, he notes with distress that he's gone deathly pale.

“Mr. Frodo?”

“It’s calling to him, Sam.” He sounds fearful as he says this, but even worse, he sounds tired. “His eye is almost on me.”

“Hold on, Mr. Frodo,” Sam says, “it’ll be all right.”

He keeps up a steady murmur of encouragement, holding Frodo’s eyes with his own, hoping he’ll find something in his voice or his face to latch onto. He tries to take one of Frodo’s bound hands in one of his own, but their Gondorian captors hold them too far apart to allow it.

“Take them to my father,” Sam hears Faramir say from further ahead. “Tell him, ‘Faramir sends a mighty gift.’”

There’s a sneer in his voice as he says it. His eyes drift down to Frodo.

“‘A weapon that will change our fortunes in this war.’”

He turns away from them, then, but not before Sam sees the twitch of a smug, bitter grin, and fire roars into his heart. No, he decides. Faramir doesn’t get to just walk away from this.

Not unscathed.

“You want to know what happened to Boromir?” he shouts after the ruddy-haired man, shoving against the soldier that holds him.

Faramir jerks as if caught on something, as if his brother’s name is a hook and he’s been snagged. He does not turn back to face them, not fully, but he does slow to a stop.

“You want to know why your brother died?” Sam presses on.

He watches Faramir’s jaw tighten. Watches him turn around at last, eyes narrowed to murderous slits.

“Do not speak another word about --”

“He tried to take the Ring from Frodo!” Sam bellows, straining against his captor’s hold, doing all he can to close the considerable distance between Faramir’s face and his own. “After swearing an oath to protect him -- he tried to kill him!”

“I said do not speak --!”

“The Ring drove your brother _mad!_ ” Sam lingers devilishly on that last word, makes sure Faramir hears every inch of it, and before he can even draw breath to continue Faramir’s sword glints under his chin.

“Sam,” Frodo warns, softly.

“My brother,” Faramir says, his voice very carefully level, “was a noble man.”

“He was,” Sam agrees. “He was, and no mistake. He never spoke of taking the Ring for himself. He wasn’t after power, leastways not unless he could share it. He wanted to protect Gondor. Isn’t that right? He wanted to protect his people. To protect you.”

The wince is barely there, but Sam sees it: the barest tightening at the corners of Faramir’s mouth.

“But you know the stories as well as I do,” Sam continues. “Why, you probably know ‘em better. You know this Ring will betray you as it’s betrayed other Men before. As it betrayed Boromir. It’s lying to you, Faramir. You have to let us go.”

There’s a tense moment in which neither of them says anything -- in which Sam almost lets himself believe that Faramir will be swayed. Then a shout splinters the air, snuffs the hopeful embers from his chest:

“ _WATCH OUT!_ ”

A boulder tears through one of Osgiliath’s ruined towers with a thunderous crack, and beneath the ensuing tumult, Frodo whispers.

“They’re here,” he says. “They’ve come.”


End file.
